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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516738">Wait, A Date?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlipOfAScribe/pseuds/SlipOfAScribe'>SlipOfAScribe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pacific Rim (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5 Times, 5+1 Things, Dubious Science, Hermann is oblivious, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Canon, Pre-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), Shatterdome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:29:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlipOfAScribe/pseuds/SlipOfAScribe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Newton tries to ask Hermann out on a date, and one time Hermann asks him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wait, A Date?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Author Note: Thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/NIXtheWADE">NIXtheWADE</a> for beta-ing this and giving me the prompt idea.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>1</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann is sitting at his desk rifling through old papers, looking for something he’d written a long time ago, some string of numbers he can’t quite place. It was from his time coding the Mark-1 Jaeger, and he vaguely remembers it being important in calibrating movement trajectory. But the lab is loud, as usual, so he is having a hard time focusing. Newt is yelling about something, the integrity of a new sample, perhaps, and he has </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Sex Pistols</span>
  </em>
  <span> blasting in the background.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lyrics keep getting in the way of Hermann’s numbers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> turn that down, Newton! I can’t focus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Newton looks up, gloved-hands absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>dripping</span>
  </em>
  <span> with entrails.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann’s lip curls at the sight, and he mimes turning down the dial on the music. He raises his eyebrows and tenses his jaw in a determined slant. He even opens his hands, palms out and pleading. Hermann really needs to find this piece of information so he can just move on to the next part of his coding for an update in the Conn-Pod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton grins at him and Hermann knows this is going to be a long day with the man. They are going to delve into one of their more heated fights, he can already tell. “Tell ya what, Herms. I’ll turn down my music,” he says in that high alto voice of his, “and I’ll keep my mess on my side of the lab if you go out with me Friday night to have a beer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever new ploy this is, Hermann isn’t having it. While the two of them sometimes find ways to compromise, more often than not, one of them always tries to come out of those compromises on top. This seems like one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>those</span>
  </em>
  <span> times, and Hermann’s not falling for it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d much rather not, if it’s all the same to you.” Hermann shuffles his papers into a neat stack before depositing them into his side bag. Might as well go find a quieter corner somewhere else in the ‘dome to work in since the lab is apparently not going to be an option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Newton turns the music down before he can leave and looks at Hermann with a pinched expression. “It's not that big a deal. It was just a drink, sheesh, forget about it. I can turn the music down a bit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Narrowing his eyes, Hermann studies Newton for a long moment and isn’t sure what he sees there. Some sense of honesty? A facade of friendliess meant to lull Hermann into complicity? No, Newt’s lips are turned down in a slight frown, eyebrows scrunched and it looks like genuine disappointment if Hermann was to hazard a real guess. Perhaps he’s too hard on the man sometimes. He sighs and carefully deposits himself back in his chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just for a little while please, if you wouldn’t mind.” He starts to pull his papers back out, needing to restart his search now that he’s haphazardly shuffled them all together. “I really </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> find this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music is still on, but it’s light now, barely a background noise that doesn’t distract Hermann too greatly. Newton gets up and stands on the line between their space. He looks like he’s thinking, face still in that crumpled frown before smoothing out once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could help, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann hesitates to accept, wondering how long they could work together before a fight breaks out. But he wants the help so gives in and watches Newton scramble to clean up first. They spend the rest of the day bent over the notes, collaborating. By the end of the day, Newton seems happy. And Hermann is happy. He has not felt this good in some time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>2</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There has been another attack. They have lost another Jaeger. Nobody in the Shatterdome is handling it well, Newton and Hermann included. They are standing together out on the tarmac, looking down at the water below. Hermann had wanted some air, and Newton had insisted on coming with him. He’s not sure why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On days when the Kaiju attack, no one gets much sleep, and Hermann has been on his feet for nearly eighteen hours. His hip aches, pain throbbing all the way down to his toes. He really should sit down, but he can’t bring himself to allow that comfort. Each time a pilot is lost, Hermann feels a bit at fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s crazy,” Newton implores when Hermann admits to this aloud. “There are so many hands in this project. It’s never just one person’s fault. How would it be your fault, dude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my coding in those blasted machines. What if I missed some...inefficiency, overlooked a possible enhancement in a method somewhere that might have allowed the pilots a better response time, allowed them to move just differently enough to win the fight?" Hermann shakes his head. He hears the way it sounds coming out of his mouth and if he heard someone else speaking this way, he would shoot them down just as Newton’s doing. “It’s not rational, and yet, there it is.” It’s not much in the way of excusing the irrationality, but it’s something at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton reaches over and places a hand on his shoulder. “Emotions aren’t always rational, Herms, and they don’t need to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann thinks about scolding the man for using that awful nickname he’s stuck to him, but the effort is too much just now. Instead, he leans into the touch and allows the bit of comfort it gives. “You never feel guilty, what with all that,” Hermann flutters his hand vaguely up and down Newton’s form, “tattooing of them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Newton scrunches his nose and his greenish eyes get that glint that tells Hermann he’s about to dive into a long-winded lecture again. “These are the definitions of our lives. That tear in the world is the single most important event in our history, and I need to be part of it. Not sit on the sidelines and let things happen, but really be involved!” Newton’s voice is edging on the high pitches of passion and Hermann finds himself enraptured. “Nothing is going to affect my life more than these guys, right? They’ve defined the very person I am!” Newton swings his arms out, gesturing at himself. “I don’t have guilt over finding that fascinating because I’m working to save the world from them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann hums, nods. He can see this reasoning, can see that it makes a lot of logical sense. Whatever Newton may be in the eyes of those who don’t work with him every day, he’s something rather spectacular to Hermann, their arguments aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Newton continues since Hermann does not interrupt. “It hurts a lot when we lose our people. But that just means I need to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so the next ones are in safer hands. Everyone here knows the risks, feels the pain when we lose a battle, but we’re in this for the long haul, dude. We’re going to win the war.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at him with a sort of renewed awe, Hermann allows himself a soft smile. “Thank you, Newton.” He feels well enough to get himself some sleep now. It has been a long couple of days, after all. Pushing away from the railing, Hermann starts heading back inside with Newton right on his heels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, uh, Hermann?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t eaten in </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Wanna go into the city with me for some food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While food does sound like a good idea, Hermann’s hip hurts too much and the draw of sleep is too sweet. “A nice thought, but no, thank you. I need a hot shower and at least a solid nine hours of sleep, I should think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yeah, alright.” Newton’s voice is softer now, tinged with something Hermann can’t quite place. “Maybe next time, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking over at him trying to place that tone, Hermann finds Newt’s shoulders are scrunched up to his ears. He looks like he’s holding something in. The feeling that he’s missed something here makes Hermann frown. He really is in too much pain to want to go out tonight though. “Certainly next time,” he offers and casts a glance sideways at Newton. The man's shoulders relax a little, his mouth twitching into a small, lopsided smile which makes Hermann feel a little better about abandoning him for the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>3</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alaska is cold and miserable and not at all where Hermann wants to be, but he and Newton are here to help put Gipsy Danger back together. With the rising attacks, she’ll be sorely needed, especially if what Hermann’s data is starting to show him is true. But all of that aside, right now Hermann can only focus on the fact that it is very, very cold and to hold onto the handle of his roll-along suitcase. He’s not built for such temperatures, too scrawny and with too poor a circulation, despite how many layers he might pile on in an attempt to keep himself warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton is running his mouth about some nonsense or other as they walk through the chill to the large hangar which opens to the rest of the Shatterdome, irritatingly nicknamed the ‘Icebox’. Hermann tries listening at first, hoping that the idle prattle will help distract him from the cold, but after some time his ears become as numb as the rest of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, are you even listening to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann heaves a put-upon sigh, leveling a look at him that speaks louder than his following words. “I don’t see why you think I can pay attention in this freezing weather. You know my tolerance for the cold is frightfully low.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton’s lips twist into a grimace and his eyes dart to Hermann’s legs. “Your hip bothering you?” he asks softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann responds with a grunt, sure that that’s enough. Newton steps closer while they continue on, Hermann isn’t sure why. He spends too long pondering the oddity and they find themselves at the dorms where they discover that they’ve been doubled-up. The two scientists are going to have to room together and isn’t that just a recipe for unmitigated disaster?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton stands in the doorway of their room and Hermann glances at him. He seems to be waiting for something, eyes darting to the bunk beds and over at him. Ah, bunk beds. There's no way Hermann wants to climb up there while his leg aches in the cold. He understands there might be hesitation on Newton's part since Hermann climbs his ladders at his chalkboard while working, so why can't he climb the small ladder for bed? But the man doesn't move to claim a bed, so Hermann sets his bag and suitcase on the bottom one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hope it's alright if I take this one," he murmurs and waits for a fight to break out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn't. Instead, Newton is grinning as he tosses a backpack up onto the top bunk, abandoning his suitcase on the floor. "Nah, no problem." He scrambles up, some excitement on his face. "I haven't been in a bunk bed since I was like ten. What was it… oh yeah, Kevin's sleepover. I rock-paper-scissored for the top bunk and stupid Logan lost to my superior brain and had to sleep on the floor."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann finds himself chuckling at Newton's story, picturing a young Newton at a sleepover and absolutely annoying his childhood companions. Hermann has never been to a sleepover. Surely Newton was as hard to deal with as a child as he is as an adult, so Hermann has that experience at least. "Well, I’m sorry to have deprived you of another chance at paper-scissors-stone, Newton."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wha-hold on, paper what? Did you seriously just call it that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann furrows his brow and glares toward the top bunk. "I'll not be calling it by your Americanized terminology, thank you very much."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not just American, the way I said it. I swear, Herms, you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be contrary." Newton is jostling things on the bed above, possibly pulling out some of his things. "I could point at that wall there, say it's white and you'd have some retort about it being," Newton takes on an affected British accent that sounds disturbingly cockney, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>creme with a hint of white eggshell along the trim</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or some shit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That is hardly my voice and I shall thank you not to try it again." Hermann sinks down on the bed and starts to gently go through his suitcase, searching for his sweater. He pulls out a few vests but does not find either of his two full-sleeved sweaters. "Shit," he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's the matter?" Newton's head pops over the side of the bunk, looking at him upside-down. One hand is gripping the edge of the bed and there’s a book in it. Apparently he was going to squirrel away some items up there with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose. "I've forgotten to pack my sweaters."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh. Well shit dude, let's go out and buy you some! You ever been to Anchorage before? It's a cool town. And there's this wicked seafood place that serves fresh halibut. Like, farm halibut since this whole Kaiju thing, but whatever," he says, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann frowns at Newton. "I thought you were vegetarian?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Eh, when I'm in Alaska, I'm pescetarian. So sue me." Newton pulls himself back upright and springs down the ladder. "Come on. They won't need us today, probably."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann shakes his head. "I'll stay here where it's warm, thank you. It will take more than fresh fish to get me out in that cold again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton frowns, stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods slowly. "Oh. Alright, I guess I'll ask Tendo to come along then." He grabs his wallet and jacket and pauses at the door. "You sure you don't wanna come? They have fluffy sweaters with moose on them at this Native American store I know of. If it's still in business."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm quite sure, Newton. Go drag Tendo out to his chilly demise." Hermann says and waves him off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermann finds food at the mess hall while Newton is out and then buries himself in their new lab to start working. He's thankful it has its own thermostat so he can turn the heat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He works too late into the night and finds Newton already asleep when he returns to their room, though the bedside lamp is still on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the bed is a carefully folded stack of what appears to be fuzzy colored cloth. Hermann sets his cane aside and sits down on the bed, poking his way through the pile. It is three hand-knitted sweaters. One with a moose, one with a polar bear, and one with a mountain that Hermann guesses is supposed to be Mount McKinley. A note flutters down as the top sweater unfolds.</span>
</p><p><span>Hermann picks it up and bites his lip as he reads</span><span>–</span> <em><span>Herms, found these for you. Hope they're your size.</span></em></p><p>
  <span>Quietly, Hermann tries them on. They fit perfectly, and they're so warm. He puts two of the sweaters away in a drawer and leaves on the one with the moose. Arms wrapped around his middle, he finds himself smiling at the motionless lump in the top bunk and a warmth that has nothing to do with the sweater works its way into his chest. Hermann falls asleep in the moose sweater, thinking again that he is much too rough with Newton. The man is unfathomably sweet when they aren't arguing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>4</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They're finally back in Hong Kong, and Hermann has had a day to rest. Still, his leg is in a lot of pain and his mood is rather foul. He knows that means his patience is running thin, so he really wants to avoid any potential debates with Newton. He wonders if he can get away with saying he’s sick. Hermann isn't the type to call out sick, though. It would be unprecedented. And about time he </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> a sick day. He’s human, he's allowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann is still sitting on the edge of the bed, hand gripped about the head of his cane as he thinks out his options for the day. He’s still just in his pajama bottoms and white t-shirt. His cellphone is there on the bedside table, beckoning him to call out. Calling out from trying to save the world. Is that even something a person can do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few more minutes, he gives in. Hermann calls down to the lab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve reached boy-wonder Newt Geiszler, what can I do ya for?” Newton’s too-cheery-for-the-morning voice rings through the phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann fights down a snappy retort and goes with, “Doctor Geiszler? I’m not feeling well. I won’t be making it in to the lab today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit, you need anything?” Newton’s tone goes from cheery and teasing to actual concern faster than Hermann thought possible, particularly when in regards to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no. Don’t trouble yourself. I can take care of myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton doesn’t say anything for a moment, but Hermann can hear him thinking, a soft clicking of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Alright, well...feel better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Hermann presses his finger to the disconnect button before anything can grow too awkward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Struggling to his feet, Hermann grabs his painkillers and pops two in his mouth, getting a bottle of water from the mini-fridge to drink them down with. He has a day to himself, which is rare. He doesn’t need to get dressed if he doesn’t want to, but now that he’s outside the blankets of his bed, Hermann is cold. He fishes through the second drawer of his dresser and unfurls one of the sweaters Newton had gotten him. The one with the moose; it’s Hermann’s favorite of the three. He slips it over his head and shuffles it about a little, letting it settle over his thin frame and wrap him up in warmth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is a perfect gift. In fact, Hermann and Newton often get each other rather relevant gifts. When Hermann was off in Germany visiting his family a few years back, he had picked up a little set of Kaiju figurines. Those are now sitting randomly about Newton's side of the lab. And they had both gotten each other, much to the mix of dismay and amusement, matching chintzy Hong Kong tourist mugs one weekend off. Those sit on a little shelf with the electric kettle Hermann insists on having. The two have worked together for so long, have known each other since those letters, and now they just simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, Hermann thinks they do. But there has been an itch at the back of his brain recently, a constant tip-tap on his nerves that says he's missing something. Something big and important. For the life of him, Hermann doesn't know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> could be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts are consumed by this all day, and he is barely able to enjoy a cup of tea and a book because of it. By the time lunch comes around, he's frustrated and hungry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann puts on proper clothing and heads to the mess hall, hoping for a decent soup. He is still feeling off, and the added stress of over-thinking has upset his stomach. He doesn't make it to the mess hall to find out about the soup though. A few corridors down, Newton pops up next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Herms, you feeling any better?" He is wringing his hands in front of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann eyes this movement and stops. "Have you done something to the lab?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton's face collapses into a crumple of confusion. "What? No! Why would you think that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because you look downright nervous." Hermann flattens his lips at the man. "Doctor Geiszler, what have you done?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nothing, dude, seriously." Newton shoves his hands in his back pockets, presumably to stop fidgeting. "I just had a question, that's all."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann sighs and rests heavily on his cane. "What is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know you're not feeling well today, but I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner some night."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know. What with all the work we have, I'm not sure we have time to wander about the city just now." Hermann watches Newton tuck his head, shrug his shoulders. Whatever is he on about? "I've already taken two days and couldn't possibly give up another night this week to galavant around town. I'll happily take a short break to dine with you at the mess hall. I'm on my way there, now, in fact."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right," Newton says and sputters a laugh. "Me too." He shuffles a little and then falls into step with Hermann and they walk to the mess together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton is too quiet, Hermann thinks a few moments later as they stand in line. He just can't figure out what is the matter with Newton today. Perhaps since Hermann isn't well, he's trying to play nice for once. It's appreciated, maybe, but also odd. Their dynamic feels askew and it makes Hermann start to overthink again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner in Hong Kong. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>been cooped up recently, and Newton often likes to slip away and have a little fun. Hermann would sometimes accompany him and Tendo on their adventures, but that question felt...different. A thought crosses his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Doctor Geiszler," Hermann starts in a questioning tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Newt, yeah," Newton interjects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann rolls his eyes but continues. "When you asked</span>
  <span>–</span>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, my two favorite doctors!" Tendo's bright tones interrupt Hermann. Newton spins around instantly distracted. Soon they have devolved into chatter with the J-Tech Chief Officer. There's no stopping it, really. He's a charming conversationalist and the one person who can stand being in the same room as both Newton and Hermann.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann will just have to remember to ask his question later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>5</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A new mathematical quandary has taken over most of Hermann's brain power. He's gotten so busy with it that he hasn’t spent any time overthinking his archenemy-friendship with Newton the last few days. Instead, he’s gripping a rung of his ladder as he chalks out the solution to an equation. He hears Newton somewhere behind him, fiddling with one of his specimen jars to get a new scraping of skin cells for a theory. He’s sure the man is making a mess but can’t bring himself to care today. Let the lab become a mess, Hermann is working on something important, far more important than his concerns of a contaminated lab space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann doesn’t realize until Newton calls him out on it that he’s been talking his thoughts on his equations and theories out loud. Apparently it’s Hermann’s turn to be the producer of the annoying habits today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Herms, dude, you’re really in your head today.” Newton is stripping his blue-slimed gloves from his hands. He tosses them in them in the wastebasket as Hermann watches from his perch on the ladder. “Something got you stuck again? We could argue about it until you have a solution and switch to hurling insults at me.” Newton is standing on the line between their workspaces, grinning like an idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hermann huffs. “I can figure this out on my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But do you want to?” Newton steps over the line and comes to stand at the bottom of Hermann’s ladder. “Isn’t it more fun when we figure things out together? Remember that breakthrough you helped me with back when we were writing to each other?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann remembers. Newton had been so happy that he’d texted Hermann a picture of himself with a thumbs up. Hermann still has that picture saved in his cloud of photos. He purses his lips and then heaves a sigh. “Perhaps you’re right.” He slowly climbs down the ladder and finds Newton holding out his cane for him the moment he steps off. He takes it with a soft thank you and slides the ladder out of the way of the board. “What do you see that I am not seeing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton takes his time studying the lines of numbers and symbols. And Hermann takes time to study Newton in return. He watches the way the man’s fingers dance across his lips as his eyes dart to and fro. His freckles are muted in this awful overhead lighting. He wraps an arm around his waist and leans heavily to one side. Hermann has never seen him so still, but he’s there, thinking, concentrating. His mouth opens in a little oh right before he starts muttering under his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there is a sudden burst of movement as he’s apparently figured something out. “Here, here, here,” he cries out and jabs a finger at a section on the board. “Look, the application of this theorem here might have boxed you in. What if–"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton is attractive; Hermann has known this for some time, though he has perhaps never admitted it to himself quite so bluntly. Newton’s brain is an amazing pool of genius and mania, which both astounds and impresses Hermann to no end. And now Hermann finds himself coming to another realization, one that twists his gut and fills him with a heady sense of foreboding. He is rather in love with Newton.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which presents Hermann with a brand new quandary. What in the name of science and all things logical is he supposed to do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> information?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh, yes, I see,” he says when he notices Newton standing there, watching him expectantly, probably having just finished a long rant defending his suggestion regarding Hermann’s work. A rant of which Hermann has not heard a single word, having been caught in a much bigger revelation. He locks eyes with Newton and he knows the man sees through him. Newton knows he hasn’t heard a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton narrows his eyes. “You sure you’re okay? Seems like you’ve been going through some stuff lately, Herms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann blinks, unsure how to answer. “Yes, I’m fine, I assure you.” He turns away and grabs a piece of chalk. Now with it in his hands, he finds himself still too distracted to do anything with it. He stands there staring at where Newton had been pointing, trying to focus on the work at hand but incapable of moving on from the reverberating echo of his recent admission regarding his feelings for</span>
  <span>–</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Newton says, placing a hand on Hermann’s arm. “Can we get you to sit down for a second?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Hermann asks but he lets Newton direct him to his chair. He suddenly realizes that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> to sit down, because his head is spinning and his legs are wobbly, and he watches Newton prop himself on the edge of his desk, so close now that Hermann’s heart starts to hammer against his ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Hermann Gottlieb, I’m going to try this just one more time. Okay?” Newton is looking him dead in the eyes, shoulders back and a look of determination on his face. “Will you go to dinner with me tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic floods Hermann’s system. Which makes no sense, because it was a simple question. A simple concept, really, one which Hermann should have no trouble processing and responding to, though when he opens his mouth to do so all he can manage is a weak, “Well, I, um.” He clears his throat, panic rising with each second that Newton is watching him. He can’t think under such heavy scrutiny. Air. He needs air. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann pushes up from his chair, snags his cane, and hurries away, leaving a surprised and gaping Newton behind him. He is panicking, needs an escape. Hermann hears Newton shouting after him but can’t make sense of the words. He rushes off and heads up to the tarmac, deciding that some fresh air might help clear his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, there is a breeze and sunlight and the sound of the ocean on the Shatterdome, but most importantly, there is no Newton. Hermann clings to the rail,  staring down at the water and trying to make sense of the rush of feelings that overwhelmed his capacity to think. He stays there until he feels like he can breathe properly again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>+1</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Hermann gets back to the lab, Newton is no longer there. It’s not that late. Normally, Newton would still be working for a few more hours, but it looks like he has wiped his side clean, turned off the computers, and vacated for the night. Hermann feels both relief and guilt. With Newton gone, he can focus on working through his thoughts the best way he knows how.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann grabs an eraser and climbs his ladder. He slides one side over, erases the old math he’s already copied, and starts something new, something decidedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> mathematics. His hand moves with his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann has turned Newton down. And what was he turning down exactly? Dinner with Newton. Newton has asked him to dinner, outside of the Shatterdome. Sort of...like a date? Hermann’s heart starts hammering again as he thinks back. That can’t be it, though. Can it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton has been asking him out quite a lot, in fact. Each time Hermann has had some excuse, some reason not to go with him. But that shouldn’t be a big deal. Newton and Hermann are coworkers who certainly don’t go out on dates, and Newton has no reason to </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask</span>
  </em>
  <span> him out on a date. Hermann’s hands work faster over the chalk board as his thoughts come faster. Unless...does Newton like him? Their letters, which had become a regular correspondence before they’d met in person, had turned a little flirty, hadn’t they? Sure, they’d botched their first meeting spectacularly, but since then they have worked well together. There might be bickering and yelling but there’s also what Newton had said. They solve things together. They have chemistry. It’s why they keep being paired together for projects, why they’re the only ones left in K-Science when all the others have been let go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn it, has Newton been asking Hermann out for two months now?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to try this just one more time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’d said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Go out with me Friday night to have a beer...Wanna go into the city with me for some food?...Well shit dude, let's go out and buy you some!...I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner some night.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>How has Hermann been so stupid?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann climbs down from his ladder and takes a few steps back. His mind finally feels back in order, no longer a jumbled mess of misunderstood propositions and haunting questions. No, it’s all laid out neatly on the board in front of him where he can finally </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. He can see the stringed pathway of attraction, and he has certainly been an idiot it would seem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flurry of chalk dust and determination, Hermann erases the evidence of his newest breakthrough as quickly as he can. He needs to find Newton. He just hopes the man is in his room and not off with Tendo since Hermann had turned him down for what Newton said was the final time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the chalkboard clean, he grabs his cane and rushes from the lab. He hurries through the corridors, nearly running a J-Tech over when they round the same corner. He tosses an apology out but doesn’t stop moving. He marches straight for Newton’s quarters and when he’s standing outside of his door, bangs on it and hopes that the man is inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann waits a beat. And then another. He starts to worry Newton is indeed out when finally the door cracks open. Newton squints out at him, dressed in just boxers, clearly set to stay in for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermann?” Newton pulls the door open further and glances to either side of Hermann like he’s looking for some sign of disaster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann’s eyes dart across his bare torso. Except it isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>bare</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is it? Since Newt is standing there shirtless, Hermann gets a good view of all of the colorful tattoos etched on his skin, and he finds them beautiful. Tightening his hand on his cane, Hermann takes a breath. “May I come in? I fear I’ve been an idiot, and I’d like a chance to correct that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, sure dude.” He steps away from the door and retreats into his room, letting Hermann follow after him. “Something with work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Hermann steps in and shuts the door behind himself. “We should go to dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton stares at him, lips pursing in a frown. “We...should...go to dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Newton, I might have panicked earlier when you asked me out.” Hermann shifts, feeling emotionally exposed in a way he hasn’t before. “And I might have been a bit...oblivious to the previous times you’ve asked. So now I'm asking. Will you let me take you out, Newton? To dinner? On a, on a date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Newton’s face lights up with a smile and Hermann feels his stomach twist in excitement. “Holy shit, finally. Yes you can take me on a date! Frickin’ hell, dude, I’ve been waiting for you to figure your crap out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermann blushes. “I’m sorry it took me so long to do that. But if you’ll put some pants on, we can go now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of putting on clothes, Newton flings himself across the room and wraps himself around Hermann in a tight hug. Hermann’s breath hitches as he feels the culmination of his desire collapse against him, and he laughs, wrapping his arms around Newton in return. Newton laughs too as they cling to each other. Pulling back just enough to meet Newton’s eye, Hermann dips down and catches his lips in a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps dinner can wait for </span>
  <em>
    <span>tomorrow</span>
  </em>
  <span> night.</span>
</p>
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